


Easy to Assume

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-12
Updated: 2011-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-20 08:25:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five people that people <em>think</em> John's shagged. And one person he has whom nobody would guess. For <a href="http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/9100.html?thread=41702540#t41702540">this prompt on the kinkmeme. </a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy to Assume

It was easy to assume that Watson and Murray were fucking. Late nights, drinking sessions, meaningful looks over the mess table.

But the truth, as most people were so keen to _not_ see was that Murray was married (straight), and Watson (bisexual) simply wasn't his type.

Theirs was not a romance, but an epic bromance – one that would span the ages, it seemed. It just wasn't helped by the fact that Watson was an inveterate cuddler (for all that he was a crack shot on the range) and Murray _liked_ it. Said it reminded him of his Elsie back home.

***

Sarah Sawyer was another case. She liked John, even after the first date (with the kidnapping and the lousy circus), but she knew better than to take up an office romance, even if he was just a locum doctor.

Besides, given the fact that a goodly percentage of their dates ended with either Sherlock sneering at them or John being kidnapped, it didn't seem like a good idea.

"But I want to be your friend!" John had whinged.

"Well, you're bisexual. Be my bisexual best friend."

"What, go shoe shopping?"

"And tell me how crap men are."

"Fine," John sighed.

***

There was also that nice girl, Mary Morstan, whom Mike Stamford had introduced to him, a few months after he moved in with Sherlock.

"She's calm, pretty, and unflappable," Mike had told him.

"Erm…"

"Given your life, mate, those are _all_ characteristics you should be on the lookout for."

And Mary was calm, pretty, and unflappable. She also bred ferrets, and was fascinated by magic and firefighters. Apparently she had done research into the history of the local fire brigades and could tell each brigade by the sound of their siren.

Not an objectionable habit, just a rather noisy one.

***

After the pool, _everybody_ assumed that John and Sherlock were fucking. Donovan and Dimmock started a syndicate and took bets on everything from "the first shag" to "tops and bottoms" to "locations of interesting hickeys and bite marks". On Lestrade's insistence, they included a spot for "not fucking at all."

Lestrade (with the help of his spooky new boyfriend) managed to secure CCTV footage of 221B _and_ definitive proof that the two were, in fact, not sleeping together, or even conducting any activity that could be at all deemed sexual.

At odds of 45-1, Lestrade made a fortune that afternoon.

***

For a while, everyone thought that John and Sherlock's _brother_ were getting it on, so to speak. John _did_ have something of a reputation as a ladies (and gentlemen's) man, given the comments that Murray kept leaving on his blog, and John and Mycroft had been sighted together on more than one occasion. Mycroft was always whisking John away in his big black car to unknown locations, presumably for a quiet seduction.

That's what Sherlock had deduced. And Sherlock was never wrong.

Except he was quite wrong, as Lestrade took pains to point out one fine (and noisy) spring morning.

***

Given all the interest, it was quite all right that nobody expected John to be shagging _her_.

Anthea agreed. Ever since the brush off the evening they first met, everyone (including John) assumed he'd struck out.

They couldn't have been more wrong. Anthea was careful. She'd "borrowed" Mycroft's notes, spent time with the CCTV, made phone calls, and surprised John outside the surgery.

"Picnic?" she asked as he slid into the car.

"What?"

"Picnic – I know a lovely place, and afterwards we can have sex if you like."

John boggled and agreed.

It was, really, the best course of action.


End file.
